The Choice
by Habeous Corpus
Summary: Red John has Jane cornered with a most unlikely weapon: a choice. Is there a middle ground, or will blood be inevitably spilled?
1. Chapter 1

**Read "Archy and the Moth." It's a poem, and you might want to have some knowledge. Yes, it's being crammed down your throat. Again. **

**The****Choice**

In a quiet office, a phone began to ring.

It began as a normal day. Normal sun, normal trees, normal work. Normal flirtatious bantering between the boss and the subordinate. Normal lovey-dovey mushiness between two agents. Normal quiet observances of human patterns by a silent watcher. It was an altogether normal day. Of course, when things are this normal, things usually become unnormal. No one knew if this would happen, but someone far, far away did. Well, he didn't know per say; it was more of a decision. Did he take the drastic, dramatic route, and play the moth? Or would it be better to bide his time, and stretch out the fun, like Archy? Both sounded okay, but it was a hard decision. A hard decision indeed. He decided to fix a cup of tea and sleep on it for a few hours. He'd make his decision at eight tonight.

At approximately eight twenty, Lisbon clicked off the light in her office. It was time to go home. She made it a rule to go home by eight every night. The only reason why she had stayed was those three last pieces of paper on her desk. It would be a shame to have them sitting there overnight. They might have little paper babies, as Lisbon suspected all these years. So they were dutifully filled out and placed in the out box. A triumphant strut to the elevator followed.

Ten minutes later, a phone rang, breaking the silence of the quiet office. It went to the answering machine, and a quiet male voice could be heard, speaking.

As Jane walked in the next morning, Rigsby snorted. "Jane, someone's left you a message."

"Really?" He paused. Who could it be? No one ever called him. He shrugged, and jabbed at the blinking button lazily.

A male voice was projected from the small phone. As soon as Jane heard the voice, his body began to do many strange things. His teeth clenched, eyes narrowed, and fists curled. Inside his body, his heart beat faster, and his blood pressure shot through the roof. All because of the voice and what it said:

"Hello, Mister Jane. I assume you know who I am." There was a long pause. A dead silent pause. Then it continued:

"I grow weary of all this cloak and dagger business. Therefore, I give you a choice. I plan to reveal myself by the end of the month. There are two ways I can do it. I can kill one person each day until the 31st, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. Or I can kill one person on the 30th, and come to the CBI for capture on the 31st. Except that one person will be you, Mr. Jane. Essentially, I am asking you to sacrifice yourself for ten people. Today is the 17th. To inform me of your decision, please call 800-273-8255. Police surveillance will void the deal. Choose wisely." A click signified the end of the call.

All the activity in the bullpen had stopped, and all were staring at Jane. Jane could feel their eyes burning into him. He wished he could just hide. Instead, he stuffed his trembling hands deep into his pockets and tried to calm himself. Things had officially gone to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**17****th****, 3 P.M.**

The world was still spinning. The second hands and minute hands still marching on, finishing laps on their numbered racetrack. California was going about its business, oblivious to the anguish of five heroes.

Lisbon paced her office while Jane sat stiffly on the sofa, following her with his eyes. Every so often, she would open her mouth to say something, but the words would not appear. Jane would nod gravely, understanding all she could not express.

Finally, Jane broke the silence. "Lisbon," he whispered hoarsely. She whipped her head around quickly. "If I don't give him some kind of answer soon, he'll start killing."

Lisbon took a deep breath; mainly to quash any pang of human regret, and to slip into boss mode. "Yes, that is true. All we can hope to achieve is damage control."

Jane leapt up, raging. "Damage control? Damage control! You want to do damage control." He paused, body shaking with disbelief. "There can be no damage control! People will die, Lisbon. Die! All because of my own damn selfishness!" He stood there, chest heaving. The inferno raging behind his eyes scorched Lisbon's soul. "The lives of 14 people are worth a hell of a lot more than mine. People will always choose the option that results in the most life. I am no exception." He took a deep breath, and calmed considerably. "I'll call to inform him of my decision." His voice was cold and hard as steel; Lisbon had no doubt that he would keep his word. He turned to leave her office, but Lisbon grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Listen to me, you moron. There is another option. We can put you under surveillance and prevent him from getting at you. We'll work the case and--"

She was cut off by Jane's cackling. "Oh yeah, that'll definitely stop Red John. Just ask Bosco, he'll tell you all about it!"

Lisbon cracked him across the face, hard and almost reflexively. Jane stumbled back slightly, hand pressed to his face. "What the hell was that?"

"That was my not so subtle way of telling you that you're being an idiot."

Jane leveled a frigid glare at her. "I am going to end this, and you can't stop me." He strode out of the office, slamming the door as he left. The panes of glass rattled, shaking an already frazzled Lisbon.

Then Lisbon realized what she had to do. She snatched a little piece of paper and frantically dialed. She held her breath, praying it would ring. For a couple of seconds, it didn't, and she nearly lost her mind. Then, the familiar dull ring of the connection tone grounded her thoughts. On the second ring, it was answered. "Agent Lisbon, hello." Why did this guy have the classic creepy villain voice?

"No deal," Lisbon barked, getting down to brass tacks.

"What?" He sounded mildly perplexed.

"He's not doing it. Instead, he'll catch you. It won't be that hard." Then she slammed down the receiver so hard the force nearly broke the phone. She knew that phone call wouldn't be held up as something a "proficient agent" would do, but she didn't care. She was too damn pissed to be an agent right now.

A moment later, Jane burst into her office, nearly out of breath. "Lisbon! I dialed five times, but the line was busy!" As he caught her expression, his panic faded to rueful shock. "Lisbon. Theresa, please tell me… You did, didn't you. Yes, you did." He sighed, and collapsed into the chair closest to him. "Congratulations. Your hands are now covered with the blood of ten people."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jane flicked the crime scene tape up and over his head. He was separated from the rest of the team, so he searched for their familiar faces in the gray morning light. Judging from the ticked police chiefs and jumpy subordinates scattered about the crime scene; this was no cut-and-dry case.

"Jane!" Lisbon's sharp voice cut through some of the gloom. "Over here." He turned to his left, following her voice. His boss was standing at the top of the mansion's marble steps. At first glance, he thought it was a cathedral, but then he started noticing the smaller details. Drapes in the windows, impeccably manicured lawn and garden, a noticeable lack of religious symbolism and signage; things a person would not associate with a house of worship. Then again, it was better the crime scene was not a church. After yesterday, he did not trust himself to interview pious priests and their followers.

He jogged up the dew-slicked steps, and was about to greet his boss when she turned away sharply, disappearing through the large, ornate double doors. Jane's cheery salutation died on his lips, and he wordlessly followed her inside.

Rigsby was already at the crime scene, garnering information from the forensic techs. He looked up from his small black notebook when Lisbon walked in. "Good—"

"What do we have?" Her voice was cold and harsh. Obviously, Lisbon was not in the mood for formalities this morning.

Rigsby flinched visibly, then answered her question. "There's a lot of blood, but no body." Lisbon stepped over to where he was standing.

"No body, no crime. Why are we here?" she asked icily. Rigsby handed her a letter. There was only "13," and the signature smiley face "Great. Red John. Of course." She pressed her hand to her face. "Are you sure it's not another copycat? The MO is different."

"Come on, Lisbon. We all know this is him," Jane said, looking at the room's décor. It was expensive, yet tasteful.

Lisbon turned to face him. "If you are not going to offer anything productive, shut up."

Jane mumbled a half-hearted apology, and began to inspect the large bloodstain on the snow-white carpet. He looked at it one way, then the other. He furrowed his brow, puzzling about something in his head. Then he blanched slightly.

Rigsby saw his slightly horrified expression and came to his side. "What is it, Jane?" Jane did not respond; he raised his eyes slowly to the ceiling, then gasped. Rigsby followed his gaze, and recoiled in horror. "Oh, Christ! Lisbon!"

"So you mean to tell me that not a single forensic analyst or cop decided to look up?" Lisbon fumed. "What the hell is wrong with these people?" Rigsby, Jane, and Lisbon were back on the steps, trying to push the haunted sight into the darkest recesses of their mind. "How the hell do you miss a disemboweled woman nailed to the ceiling next to a bloody smiley face?" she mused, partially to herself.

Jane let out his breath slowly. "First, people tend to not notice things above eye level. Second, people have an even lesser chance of noticing something if it's behind them _and_ above eye level. The vaulted ceilings are high enough to make the oversight plausible. The only reason I noticed the body was the blood pattern. The stain appeared to have been created by vertical dripping, so I…" His voice trailed off as he stepped into his thoughts.

Lisbon muttered to herself frustratedly as she raked her fingers through her hair. "Come on. We have to wait for an ID, and for forensics to finish before we do anything." Rigsby slipped his notebook into his jacket pocket, and headed off to the state-issue SUV. Lisbon took a step in the same direction, but Jane caught her arm. "Lisbon."

All the pent up stress of the past two days finally caught up to her, and found its way into her reply. "Get off me you sonofa--"

"Lisbon!"

She forced herself to take a breath. "What do you want?" she spat.

Jane put a tender hand on her shoulder. "I wanted to apologize. I've been pretty horrid to you." Lisbon was silent, her face burning in shame. "No, it's okay. I probably deserved that. I've been saying a lot of harsh things myself." He pulled her a little closer. "You did the closest thing to right, in my opinion. I don't like it, but it was the most logical."

"Thanks, but this situation has no bounds of logic or 'right.'"

Jane smiled, and looked down slightly. Then he stared her right in the eye, sending a shiver down both of their spines. "Don't let our friendship get in the way of good judgment." Then he hopped down the steps after Rigsby. Lisbon just stood there, thinking about what he had said. Usually, he was right about predicting what people would do. Was he right about her?

The drive back to the headquarters was stiff and silent. About halfway back, Rigsby's phone rang, breaking the silence. "Agent Rigsby. Yes. Oh, Good." He reached for his notebook, balancing it on his leg. "With a 'c?' And the last name?" He scribbled down a name. "Okay, thank you. You too."

Lisbon looked over at him. "Does our victim have a name?"

"Yes. Alicia Donnelly." Jane gasped softly in the back seat. "What's the matter, man?"

"Alicia…" He turned to look out the window, his mind far away. "That was my daughter's name."

**A/N-Aha! The plot thickens. Thank you to my reviewers and sorry for the wait. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The 19th

Lisbon pulled the covers up to her chin, trying to forget the past two days. But, try as she may, it didn't happen. She turned her restless mind to the alarm clock at her bedside. The glowing red numbers spelled out 12:24. She had been lying awake for over three hours, and she felt it. Now she knew how Jane felt every night. This was horrible.

Ten miles away, Jane was having the opposite problem. He was being tortured with nightmares. Red streaked toes walked across his mind, and smiling faces taunted him by being just out of reach. Every time he woke up, he was drenched in sweat, and even more tired than before. He whipped the covers off of his body, and sat on the edge of his bed, trying to forget his past. It didn't work, just like every other night he had done this. He rubbed his face, trying to relax. He had to be his best tomorrow, for the case. His life was whipping itself into a crescendo, and if he didn't pay attention, he would be left behind. His mind went back to the ultimatum laid before him: his life, or fourteen lives. Well, now it was thirteen. Red John had claimed his first victim.

Or had he claimed his first victim? Well, when he thought about it, it wasn't his first victim, either. First Susan and Alicia, then Renfrew and his consort, then Hardy. And the blood didn't end there. Bosco, the other two agents that worked with him, and Agent Hicks were dead because of his stubbornness, according to Rebecca. Now Alicia Donnelly. Ten people, and he was guilty by association. Maybe he should just hand himself over; in a way, he deserved every slash of the knife. Ten people. It was unfathomable. He sat, hunched over, thinking about what he should do, until the sun began to touch the top of the trees.

OOOO

When the boss and the consultant finally stumbled into work that morning, it was eight o'clock. Cho watched them come in. First, Lisbon headed straight to her office, barely saying good morning to anyone. Then a few minutes later, Jane came in, hidden behind a plastered smile. Cho looked into Jane's dull, lifeless eyes, and closed his own in silent sympathy. Sometimes, Jane had way too many enemies. True, some were righteous, but others were not. Like Red John. Jane expressed his opinion, and had his world destroyed in return. All the murderer was doing was torturing an innocent person. And by torturing Jane, he hurt the entire team. It was then Cho decided that he would exact his own revenge. You screwed with a friend of his, you were screwing with him. And that was unacceptable.

For most of the morning, Lisbon sat alone in her office. It was her shelter, her fortress. She had pulled up the drawbridge, and was hiding from the world. Her desk phone's ringer was muted, and her cell phone was silenced. Even though she knew her efforts to block out the bad things wouldn't change reality, but it made her feel better. Unfortunately, it also blocked out the one person who could help her.

Van Pelt sat at her desk, working silently like the good little rookie she was. Some part of her regretted joining the team. Hell, if she had known the team was going to be like this, she wouldn't have even applied. The only good thing was her relationship with Rigsby, but it was expressively forbidden. Nevertheless, she was part of the team now, so she had to put up with their crap.

OOOO

Far away, a man walked into a toy store. He headed straight to the stuffed animal section, and selected a gray elephant from the shelf. This was the last one. Then he would have enough for what he planned to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The 19th, Late Afternoon

The toy elephants held a silent vigil. Some were small, some were large. There were hard figurines, soft plushes, and wooden carvings. But they all had one thing in common. They were waiting.

OOOO

"Well, at least he's consistent," Cho grumbled. Jane and Lisbon walked silently undisturbed, the door to the room unopened. Many hadn't the heart to do it, and those who did feared the wrath of Theresa Lisbon too much. As they entered the sepulcher-like house, the officers gathered around the door silently. They waited too.

Cho was the one to break the seal. Jane hovered near his shoulder, a bundle of nervous energy bound by his own curiosity.

Through the doorway, they could see the signature face on the wall. Even though they expected it, the macabre signature still sent icy fingers plucking through their stomachs. However, then they looked down at the floor.

Lisbon furrowed her brow in disbelief. "What the hell is this?" All kinds of toy elephants were arranged under the smile in a little half-circle, all facing the right side of the room. Except for one. It was close to the door, and positioned so that it looked up anyone who was in the doorway. Cho recognized this particular stuffed animal. Not long ago, he had been carrying one just like it to convenience stores and gas stations, trying to find out who sold it.

But the focal point of the room was the young woman spread out on the carpet, butchered like so many before her.

OOOO

Jane stepped out of the house with Lisbon, both welcoming the hot Californian air. Jane sighed, his face white as a fresh shroud. "I think we need to talk to Rosalind Harker again."

Lisbon mulled this over. "Why?"

"The elephants. I think it means something to Red John." Jane kicked around the dirt a little as he walked. "The fact that he took so much care and planning with the arranging and acquiring suggests that it means something to someone close to his heart, or to a friend's heart. That means Rosalind."

Lisbon stopped. "Wait, Rosalind was Dumar's lover. Right?"

Jane turned back at her. "Well, according to Rebecca, Red John is on a... 'mission of love.'" He had to force himself to say the words. "So it's possible he sees Rosalind as a powerful ally or friend. Or maybe even something more. He could have even taken care of he in the aftermath."

"I don't see it, but I trust your judgment. Cho's going to stay here and work on an ID for us. Let's go."

And for many minutes after that, all Jane could hear in his mind was "I trust your judgment."

OOOO

Lisbon took out her badge as Jane pounded on Rosalind's door. "Jane, relax," she whispered. After a few minutes, Rosalind appeared.

"Hello?"

"CBI, ma'm." Lisbon replied, pressing her badge into the woman's hand for inspection. But Rosalind momentarily ignored the badge and stepped closer to Jane, inhaling deeply.

"Hello, Mr. Jane. Yes, I know it's you. I can smell that disgusting cologne of yours. You aren't welcome in my house. If I remember correctly, you are a civillian. Agent Lisbon, you are welcome, but Mr. Jane, you are not." She gestured for Lisbon to come in, but when Jane tried to follow, she slammed the door in his face.

Jane rested a palm on the door. Obviously she had been told what he had done. He had a sudden urge to beg for forgiveness, but then he remembered the look on Lisbon's face right before he pulled the trigger. He didn't need forgiveness for killing that man. But he would still apologize all the same. It would probably put him on better terms with Rosalind, and hopefully she would tell them what they needed.

"Mrs. Harker, please let my colleague in." Lisbon's voice was muffled through the door, but still as assertive and clear as it always was. After a few seconds, the door opened. Jane stepped inside, careful to stay out of Rosalind's way.

As Rosalind made her way to the kitchen, Jane accidentally bumped into her. "Do you mind?" she snapped, making Jane flinch. Lisbon bit back her pity, and instead jerked her head at the woman, rolling her eye. Jane smiled ruefully.

The blind woman, oblivious to their exchange, had already made it to the kitchen and had begun looking for refreshments. "Agent Lisbon, would you like anything to drink?" Jane got the distinct feeling that no hospitality would be extended to him. Something about this quiet woman unsettled him.

"No thank you. Do you have any idea why we're here?"

"Absolutely. You know, I talked to the man you called Red John. I call him Johnny." She let that sink in before continuing. "I do not know anything about him. I do not know where he went. Johnny wouldn't tell me anything like that, because he didn't want me to be interrogated. The only details I have are that his arms are of a normal build, and he has a quiet, soothing voice." At this, Jane's face fell slightly. But it was _something._ "However, we did talk about other things. One thing was you, Mr. Jane. Johnny told me that you, Mr. Jane, are a murderer."

Jane swallowed thickly. He had to keep himself under control. But she was right, and that scared him most of all. But Rosalind wasn't finished yet.

"When I began to sob, he asked me a question. Would I like to see Mr. Jane dead? I said yes." Lisbon stepped over to where Jane was standing, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. She admired how he was able to control his anger.

Then Rosalind sighed. "But you are standing before me, aren't you? You're still alive. And part of me's glad. I don't want your blood to be spilled for my sake." Then the final dig: "I'm not you."

Jane took a deep breath, and turned his head to the side unconsciously. Then he stepped over to the kitchen counter, having found something interesting. About eight pill bottles were lined up on the counter. "Why so much medicine, Ms. Harker?"

She stared at him with unseeing eyes. "I'm dying, Mr. Jane. I'll be dead at the month's end."

OOOO

Jane leaned against the SUV. "Well this explains the time frame. Obviously Red John has a strong bond to Rosalind."

Lisbon slouched against the car door next to him. "Yeah. Or she's leading us on. Did you get a doctor name off those pill bottles?

"Dr. Morgan."

"Nice job."

"Thank you." His voice sounded taut and stretched.

"Jane."

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Fine." Sure he was. He was always 'fine.'

"No you're not."

"Oh, how trite." Jane tried to walk away, but Lisbon stopped him by grabbing his suit coat.

"But it's necessary. Now shelf your pride and listen to me. You are not--"

Jane interrupted her. "You're here. That's all that matters."

The rode back to the CBI in a comfortable silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane found himself at the end of another day. Another victim. One more jagged hole punched in his sanity.

The truth was, they knew nothing. Besides the trivial little facts they picked up during cases, they had next to nothing. Jane thought a little more. Actually, the general public knew about as much about Red John than they did. That was pretty sad. Everytime they found a little tidbit of information, Red John found a way to out date it. Destroying evidence, killing someone... he had his way. But one thing remained the same. He had to catch that man!

But all they had was a smile.

He snorted to himself, the sound echoing in the dead house. This was the kind of thing you'd find in dime store horror thrillers with slightly bent covers. Not in real life. Yet here it was, playing out in front of him.

Jane dragged a tired hand over his face. Should he give in? Give up? How did he even get to this point? How many more people were going to die because of him, because of the CBI? He had gone over this so many times in the last week, and had gotten nowhere.

Sophie had once told him that keeping things inside destroyed you from the inside out; that you needed to share them with someone you trust. And the only people he trusted were on the Special Crimes team. So he got out his phone, and tried to decide who to call. Van Pelt would smother him with pity, and he'd probably end up cutting her to the quick with a sarcastic remark. Rigsby reflexively repressed his emotions, and didn't bother with anyone else's.

Cho. Cho would listen. He had a way of simplifying things, of dissolving all of the snags. But he also had a way of tricking you into figuring things out for yourself. And that wasn't what he was looking for. So that left Lisbon. His finger hovered over the call button.

What was he going to say? 'Hello, Lisbon? That you? Oh. I was just calling to see if I had your permission to sacrifice myself to a serial killer.' It was the best option, but she wouldn't get it if he said it like that. Jane snapped his phone shut and sent it skittering across the floor.

He fell back to the bare mattress, unbuttoning his vest. It was 10:16 PM on the 19th. But he could care less about the date. It didn't matter to him. The minutes ticked by, and he was wide awake. 10:33. He glanced over at his phone, then rolled over, putting his back to it. 10:41. He sat up, about ready to burst. If he sat in this dingy bed any longer, listening to this shriveled house groan, without latching on to someone with a shred of sanity, he'd force himself through the gates of hell. So he picked up the phone and called her.

She answered on the third ring. "Jane?"

His voice caught in his throat. "Lisbon?" He tried to pull himself together.

"Yeah?" She yawned, making the line crackle.

"Did I wake you?" He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't reach the words.

"Jane, why did you call?" she groaned. "And no, I wasn't sleeping.

She was lying, but he didn't care for once. "I..." His heart rose to his throat, choking off his words. "I don't know."

For a few seconds, neither spoke. Then Lisbon sighed, making the line crackle some more. "Jane, do you... want to come over?" She tripped over the words, but Jane was there to catch her.

"Yes, that would be wonderful." She was handing him the key to his prison. Even if it was the worst social call he ever made, it would still give him a respite from their thoughts.

"All right. You have my address, right?"

"Yes." He had memorized her address, quite unintentionally. Jane tucked the phone into the crook of his neck, leaving his hands free to prepare himself.

"Okay. How long will it take you?"

He finished lacing his shoes and shifted the phone to the other ear. "Ah... a half-hour?"

"Okay. See ya." A click.

Jane frowned. She hung up so suddenly, plunging him into silence once again. He dropped the phone into his pocket and snatched up his car keys.

He jogged down the stairs, bouncing up and down. When he reached the front door, he unlocked it, then pulled it closed behind him with a spectacular bang. He was going to Lisbon's. Not for work, but as a friend.

A friend! They had become a rare commodity. It seemed all he made were acquaintances these days. As he drove to her apartment, the headlights seemed to reach through the darkness, pulling him closer to her. To safety.

By the time he knocked on her door, he was considerably calmer. Jane's hands had stopped shaking, and the knot in the bottom of his stomach had uncurled itself. Lisbon answered almost immediately. "Jane. Come in." He strolled inside, hands in his pockets. She closed the door behind him and leaned on it casually. "Why'd you come?"

Jane stopped, and turned to face her. He wasn't quite sure why. "I don't now. Just needed to get out, I guess." Then he realized he had said too much.

"Of where? Your home?"

He flinched inwardly, but maintained complete control over his voice. "Yes. My house."

Her mouth twisted a little, and she appeared to be thinking. Then she nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that."

He smiled softly. "That makes one of us."

Lisbon smiled back. "I thought you understood everything," she teased.

"Except myself."

"Why don't you sit, and you can tell me what's on your mind?"

"Ah, sure. Um..." He looked around for a free chair. Ann the chairs in the room were covered with mail, or random objects. Lisbon immediately leapt forward to clean catalogs and envelopes off the dining room chairs. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Jane pulled out a chair, and sank into it. "I was thinking about the case."

Lisbon smiled slightly. "Naturally."

Jane had to bite back a scathing remark. "I was wondering if we should just stop this game." He folded his hands on the table.

Her smile faltered. "What?"

"Think about it. I give myself up, I'd be so close to him," he pressed.

Her face became cold and hard. "And if you die?"

"Then I get to find out in Van Pelt's right about that whole immortal soul business."

Lisbon dropped her head to her hand. "Why do you have to be such a crazy, reckless, charmer?"

Jane laughed slightly. "You like me anyway."

Lisbon laughed back. "Tea?"

"Please."

She went into the kitchen. "I think I only have decaf."

He followed her, hands in his pockets. "That'll do."

She filled the kettle, and set it to boil. "Let's pull back the crazy, all right? We play our cards right, and bad things will be in store for Red John. Let's just play by the rules." She continued speaking as she got a cup down from the top cupboard.

Jane smiled pleasantly, letting the rest of her words wash over him. He drank his tea, said goodbye, and went home.

The 20th, 8:00 AM.

The next morning, Lisbon and Rigsby went to question Dr. Wilson. Lisbon expected a challenge of power from Jane, some way of browbeating her into delivering Red John to him with a bow around his neck.

She got nothing. Just a nod, and a slight frown. As he went to go lie down on his couch, she couldn't help but wonder if he was up to something. Jane always was.

Rigsby tapped her on the shoulder, keys jingling in his hand. "Boss, are you coming?"

He'd be fine. Cho would keep him in line. "Yeah. You drive."

OOOO

Jane laid on his couch, feigning sleep. He wouldn't be able to slip out like he could with Rigsby and Van Pelt. Cho missed nothing. He was always alert. And Cho may be a good friend of his, but not good enough for him to turn a blind eye. So the only thing he could do was plan. Work out the details. Make things fall into place. And wait.

OOOO

Dr. Wilson shifted her weight to one side. "I can't remember if Rosalind ever had someone present at her appointments."

Rigsby stood by her, taking notes. "Are there any security cameras we could check?"

"No, you don't understand. I do house calls."

"Oh. Thank you for you time, Doctor," Lisbon replied curtly.

Dr. Wilson took her keys and left the two agents in the exam room.

Rigsby folded the notebook up and tucked it away in his pocket. "Well, that got us nowhere."


End file.
